


Twelve, or Half

by xTheJackalx



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, LGBTQ POV Character, Multi, Multiple First Person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTheJackalx/pseuds/xTheJackalx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 73rd Annual Hunger Games has arrived, and half of the 24 tributes volunteer to go to the arena, some for fame, some for duty and some simply want to go down in a blaze of glory.</p>
<p>How do the non-volunteers stack up against the kids who volunteered to fight to the death?</p>
<p>Who will emerge sole Victor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Rowena I

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this has been a work in progress for some time, though it is a labour of love. I adore 'The Hunger Games' and am so happy to be able to publish a fic about it. I know the 73rd has been done a lot, but try and stick with me and hopefully you'll find a character or two that you can cheer for. Feedback is always welcome. :)

Chapter 1 – Rowena I

District 4 – The Night Before The Reaping.

The Victors Village in District 4 has a beautiful view of the ocean from their back porches, and as I watch the sun set in to the ocean, I was aware that it is the last time I’ll ever see beauty – unless I win the Hunger Games, unless I leave 23 teenagers dead. I don’t think I've ever felt more at peace, ‘cause I know that this; the breeze, the sand, and the ocean – this is worth fighting for. Tomorrow morning when I volunteer for the Games, I'll hold this image in my heart, and I'll know that I'm going to win. I'm going to come home to this.

It’s tradition in District 4 for the Victors to throw parties for their hand-picked ‘career’ tributes the night before the games, to say thank you on behalf of the District. They open up the next unoccupied house in the row and call it a “house-warming” – something to encourage their tributes to come back and claim it. The kids at the academy refer to the ‘celebration’ as a funeral rather than a house-warming, and truth be told, that’s what it is – for Myles or myself (maybe both of us), this is the last night we'll spend in District 4.

I look over to Myles, my fellow tribute; he’s flush from drink, laughing heartily with Davey - one of our older victors – Davey was one of our head trainers at the academy, and he’s always favoured Myles. I suspect that’s the reason Myles was chosen as this year’s male tribute; Davey's desperate to mentor a victor – Myles is a good choice, he’s tall, blonde, beautiful, and charming; with sparkling blue eyes that pierce your very soul (truthfully I've had a crush on him for years) he’s everything a District 4 victor should be.

But when he accepted the class’s nomination to be our male tribute this year, he destroyed my daydream of returning home the conquering Queen and sweeping him off of his feet.

Myles’ family seem perfect; they all mingled so well with the victors’ families tonight, he’s the son of a Doctor from one of the northern villages (the rich area of District 4) and the North Shore School Principal. I have no idea why he accepted the nomination for tribute. Lots of rich kids train for the arena in their spare time, though they don’t live at the academy like the rest of us ‘poor rats’. They train just in case they get reaped and the designated tribute gets cold feet – this rarely happens, but it’s not unheard of. For a kid from the richer part of the District to accept the nomination, seems weird, he has an actual future here, in the District. I find myself wary of Myles before the games have officially begun.

As for my family; well, my father was probably one of my mother’s customers at the brothel, but I'll never know. Mum’s a whore down at the dockside parlour; she’s tough as nails and the nicest person I've ever known. Thankfully Mum regularly services some of the trainers from the academy, and as a favour to her, one suggested I move to the academy, (to save me from ‘the life’ after a sailor tried to ‘handle’ me when I turned 6.) Mum wholeheartedly agreed, and came to visit me when she could, how was she to know I’d be good enough to be picked as tribute? She’s bitter about it all, and I don’t blame her, but this is my one shot at life, glory or death – all or nothing. Otherwise, I'll end up at the Docks working with Mum, and after my run in with that sailor – I’d rather die than live like Mum.

Mum and Myles’ family left about an hour ago, the victors’ families all returned home not long after. So now I'm stuck with captain charming and our six available Victors (Emilla died years ago and they say that Maggs will be joining her soon.)

Davey decides it’s time for a speech and has a ten minute drunken spiel about how grateful District 4 is for our sacrifice and how hard the games can be, but after he’s repeated himself a number of times, Annie subtly hands him a beer and finishes of the speech for him. That’s why I like Annie, she gets things done quietly, and she’s nowhere near as unhinged as she’d like people to think she is. The girls at the academy told me I was mad when I picked Annie Cresta as my mentor, I am the first District 4 tribute to do so, but I stick by my decision.

The speeches go on and on, and as proud as I am to be picked as a tribute, this is quickly turning in to one of the most boring nights of my life, so I find a way to excuse myself and sneak down to the beach to watch the first stars begin to appear. I'm shocked to find ‘Mr. Life-of-the-Party” Finnick Odair also ‘hiding’ from the drunken crowd of his friends.

I sit down on the sand next to him, he’s so beautiful, especially when he hasn't got his ‘camera face’ on. When he’s around friends he lets the façade slide, and that’s why Annie loves him, why all the Victors adore him and why we at the academy idol him.

Finnick gives me a smile and without a word hands me the bottle he’s been sipping on, I really don’t need any more drink but I’m not going to turn down free alcohol. I take a swig and hand it back, he does the same, and we sit in comfortable silence for some time just enjoying the brown liquor and one another’s company.

Finnick finally breaks the silence “So… you chose Annie, huh?”

I knew this was coming, Finnick was the one who put my name forward as candidate, he was a academy rat, same as me, and has always had a sweet spot for his fellow rats. He’s probably disappointed that I didn't choose him. “I'm sorry Finnick, but I just felt that she could do the best for me.”

“No need to be sorry, I'm so pleased you picked her. She’s brilliant, and I really think you two could make the best team. I put your name forward because you’re like her, not just in the looks department but you’re likeable, quiet and sure of yourself. You'll be so under-rated going in to that arena, that the other tributes won’t see you as a threat until it’s too late.”

“Don’t fill her head with grand schemes yet love, let her enjoy the life of normality for the last few hour at least.” Annie chimes in behind us.

“Heh, how long have you been there?” Finnick asks his girlfriend as she takes a seat on his lap.

“About 10 minutes.” Annie replies casually, as if it’s normal to watch your boyfriend sharing alcohol with a random teenage girl. “And thank you for the compliments.” She says as she leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Annie, do you really think I can win?” I ask her nervously, the alcohol getting the better of me.

Annie hesitates, “Yes” she says “Though, I think all mentors think that about their tributes.” This brings a snort out of Finnick, she glares at him.

“Remember Sera, my tribute last year?” Finnick asks.

“The poor girl who had her stomach ripped out after being gang-raped by her own district partner, and their alliance members? Yeah, I think she'll be hard to forget.” Annie answers.

Sera was 18 when she went, 3 years above me, so I didn't know her well, but I remember Heimer the boy who went with her, he was always a little twisted. I was really shocked when they picked him, and I can't say I felt bad when the District 9 girl chopped off his leg and left him to the wolves.

“Well, from the second she accepted the nomination, I knew she wouldn't be coming home, Drewid put her name forward, even though I told him it was a bad idea.” Finnick says bluntly. “So, no, not all mentors think that about their tributes; Maggs told me that she didn’t expect me to come back.” His smile fades at the mention of Maggs. (Apart from her family Finnick seems to be taking news of Maggs’ stroke the hardest.)

Annie is quick to change topic “Well, what about when you got stuck with me, I bet you didn’t expect the little dancing girl to survive against trained warriors.”

That brings his smile back “Honey, there was never any doubt in my mind that you’d make it.”


	2. Chapter 2 - Claire I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language Warning!
> 
> Also, I should mention that I'm not an expert on Panem lore, but I'm doing my best to keep this as canon as possible. If I veer to much please correct me. :)
> 
> Reviews are always welcome.

Chapter 2 – Claire I

District 7 – Reaping Morning

I wake up to the light streaming through our window. I really wish I had the ability to sleep in, just once. I hate reaping day so much, (even if it is the only day that I get off of work) so if I was able to sleep though it all; that would be amazing. But that’s a fantasy.

I roll over in bed to find my sleeping husband, Jethro, still asleep and snoring like a broken chainsaw. Any chance I had of sleeping in are out the window. I decide not to wake him – he doesn’t need to worry too much about today. He’s 19 years old and now free from the reaping. If only I was 3 months older, I’d be free as well. More fantasies.

I jump out of bed as quietly as possible, and through a miracle he manages to stay asleep, my snoring little kitten.

Jethro is the Mayor’s son, and has never _really_ had to worry too much about the possibility of being reaped. He’s never had to take a tesserae – where as I’ve got 5 younger siblings, my Dad, and until 2 years ago my Mum, and I took a tesserae for all of us – My name is in the bowl more times than I care to think.

Jethro went against his mothers’ wishes to marry me. Despite the fact that he explained to her that we’d loved one another since we were 5 she had him betrothed to some fat divorcee named Marilyn, to merge powerful families or some crap. I found out after Jet and I eloped that Marilyn was (and is) a wealthy and powerful woman, she inherited her father’s logging company and thus; just so happened to be my Dad’s boss. Due to her spite my Dad lost his cosy job as a driver and was sent to work on the mill – a man his age shouldn’t have to be doing work that strenuous.

So even though I’m the Mayor’s daughter-in-law I quit school and took up Dad’s position at the mill, and I’ve busted my back out there every day to make sure Dad has enough money to feed the kids, and that none of them will have to take a tesserae as many times as I did growing up. Marilyn hates the fact that she hasn’t broken me and still tries daily to make my life hell, but I got the man in the end so I figure I won.

Jet stirs a little as I get dressed but doesn’t wake, thank goodness. I know he worries about me, working a job guys twice my size should be doing. He’ll worry today too – Jethro has me and his little sister as well as some friends who are all still available for reaping. The more of this morning he can sleep through the better.

I know that the reapings are definitely rigged some years, and recently I’ve made an enemy, but I doubt that Marilyn has enough sway to see me end up in the arena. Yes, she’s rich but truth be told, if she wanted me dead she’d just have some of her boys push me under a saw at work, and I’m pretty sure she’d have to run the rigging by Jet’s Mum, and I doubt she’d destroy her sons happiness just to make a point. She’s mean, but she’s not evil.

With that gruesome chain of thought put behind me, I slowly pad downstairs to the kitchen. I can’t wait until we get our own place, staying with Jet’s family is nice – as they’ve got the nicest place in the District, but despite my best efforts his mother still hates me. I was hoping to get in a quick breakfast and sneak off to see Dad and the kids before reaping, but as I reach the kitchen there’s the monster-in-law, sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on cereal looking right at me. Shit.

Betsy Taffe the Mayor of District 7 is looking rather ragged, her greying hair is still tied in a tight beehive, and she’s still dressed in formal wear, in fact it looks like she hasn’t slept. But without her glasses on I can see that my mother-in-law is looking old. There are dark black bags under her bloodshot eyes – it’s obvious that she’s been crying, ugh, this is not exactly how I wanted to start my day.

Oddly enough she doesn’t turn away, in fact through the tear stained eyes she gives me a smile, something about this situation is wrong, very wrong. On a normal morning, if we’re unfortunate enough to run in to one another, Betsy and I usually offer fake pleasantries before I scramble out the door as quickly as possible, usually unfed. But today she pulls out the seat next to her, and gestures me over, I’m really suspicious but I slowly walk over and sit, as if approaching a wounded animal.

I’m not sure if I should play along with the niceties or ask if she actually wants to cut to the chase, because she obviously wants something. Thankfully she begins and saves me having to play nice. “We may not like one another you and I. But I know how much you love my children.” She states bluntly, and truer words were never spoken. Kasey is as dear to me as any of my own siblings, and quite obviously I love Jet. “And that’s why I need you to do me a huge favour…”

I’m hesitant but if I can help Jet I should ask “What do you want?”

“I want you to go in to the arena.”

She states it so simply, as if she was asking me to feed the cat, or wash the dishes – not fight for my life. But she’s serious, there’s no more tears left in her eyes, just resolve, she wants me to volunteer to die. I take a moment or two, as I let my mouth hang open in shock, Betsy keeps looking at me, eyes boring right in to my soul. Anger bubbles to the surface, she’s been trying to be rid of me for 13 years! What does she expect me to say?! ‘Yeah, sure Bess, no worries, want me to bring you back a scalp or two?’ I’m seething with anger, how dare she!

“What the fuck?!” I yell, then spit at her. (Yes, I know swearing is wrong but this horrible bitch just asked me to die! Her first!)

The hurt in Betsy’s eyes is really fucked up. It’s like she really was expected me to give up without a fight. She wipes the spit from her face, but hold my glare the whole time. Eventually water fills her eyes, and behind the hate – I see something I’ve never seen this iron-boxed mother-in-law of mine express before… fear?

“Kasey is going to be reaped today.” Betsy finally manages to whisper from behind a veil of tears, which after a moment turns in to uncontrolled sobbing.

There’s no doubt at all in her voice. It’s not speculation, this is fact from her, Betsy never deals in maybes; she likes facts. My anger subsides a tiny bit, and I start to feel for her on a human scale, damn my week heart. I’m not sure I _want_ to know the answer but I _need_ to ask “How do you know this?”

District Mayors may only be pawns in the Capitols grand game. But they usually have a fair idea of what’s being done in their Districts, or so Jet explained to me – as he’ll take up the role when Betsy kicks the bucket.

After a few more tears she gathers herself and explains “The Capitol is displeased with the rumblings of rebellion from the Districts, and for some reason or another, has decided to reap one of us Mayors’ children to reassert control. As they believe that some of us, me and the fellow mayors, are funding and supporting the rebels.”

I think I’m beginning to understand, but I hadn’t heard anything about rebellion in my small corner of the world.

After a minute Betsy continues “The worst part is they made us, the Mayors’, pick between ourselves which among us would lose a child.” She takes a breath to recompose herself, the Capitols games are brutal – in and out of the arena. “After ruling out those too old, the lesbian from District 6 and those whose children are not in reaping age it came down to myself and Grant Undersee from 12, he has a daughter around Kasey’s age… But only one. Since I also have Jethro and am likely to have grandchildren soon they decided that my Kasey needed to be offered up.”

An earth-shattering silence hangs in the air as I take it all in. “So, why me?” I ask after I can finally manage to speak again.

“This is meant to affect my family – our family.” She corrects herself. “If I convinced someone else to take the fall I have no doubt that by the end of the day You, Me, Jethro and Kasey will all be blown sky high.”

I know she’s right, (just look what happened to the Mason’s) if not Kasey, it has to be me. I have a better chance than Kasey of winning, but there’s still a 23 in 24 chance that I’ll end up dead. Damn the bitch for putting this on my shoulders! I also know that it’s not really a choice, if I don’t save her daughter – there’s a good chance my father may just trip down the stairs or some other ‘horrible accident.’ Betsy may be from the Districts, but she’s a Capitol girl at heart.

After a while I’ve made up my mind. “You have more money than I can imagine, and you’ve let your son’s bride slave away in a saw mill, that’s fucked up.” I let that hang in the air for a bit, I need her to see me as a person, not some filthy mill-rat. “I won’t let your daughter die, Betsy, and to be clear, I’m doing this for her, not you. In return you need make things right for my family. You set my Dad and the kids up for life – they never have to take tesserae!” I slam my fist in to the table. She nods eagerly. “You move them out of that hovel, in to a nice place.” Another slam, another nod, “And you take the company from that bitch Marilyn and give control to my Dad.”

The look on her face after the final demand is priceless. She finally manages to squeak “That may be beyond my control…”

She knows that I know she’s lying. Despite her words, her face is already resigned, but I need to make my point known, so I reach forward, grab her by her shirt and pull her towards me so close that our foreheads push together. I stare her dead in the eyes and whisper slowly in my best menacing tone “I want it done, before the reaping.”

She pushes herself away from me, looks out to the newly risen sun, silently resignes herself to the fact that she’s going to have to screw over an ally. As a look of disgust passes over her, she looks back and says “Consider it a deal.”

“Look after my family, make sure your children know that I loved, love them (I need to think positive), and for both of our sakes never ever tell them what took place here, they don’t need to know the depths of your depravity.”

She ignores my insult and declares “I promise all that, and as much help as I can muster for you in the arena.” She says as she shakes my hand. I now feel even more unclean. As I get up and turn to leave, Betsy has one last thing to say “Claire, believe me when I tell you that I want you to come home.”

“I do.”


	3. Chapter 3 - Jaxon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow progress between chapters at the moment, but I think I've finally found some drive for writing again, I'm really looking forward to progressing with this story. 
> 
> If you've read this story and enjoyed it, or if you think there's some area's I need to improve, please feel free to message me, I'd love some feedback.
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy guys. ^.^

Chapter 3 – Jaxon I

District 10 – The Reaping

“Jaxon Marz” I say to the peacekeeper guarding the square. She takes a drop of my blood and clears me to enter the station. I wander over towards the other 16 year old boys and take my place next to Tommy, he smiles nervously at me. Tom has always looked to me for help when times get rough, 4 years ago he lost his family, from the moment I convinced my parents to take him in I’ve been his protector.

The Capitol anthem plays and Dandie, our escort enters with her large arms out stretched like she’s expecting a round of applause, she looks like she’s put on another 10 kilos since last year – and she has never been small. She’s wearing some hideous grey outfit. I hate the colour grey, it signifies silver, which means second. But it just so happens to be District 10’s colour. The Capitol emblem is flying high on many flags with grey backgrounds hanging from the justice building, it makes me sick. But there are worse colours, District 8 got stuck with pink, it makes it hard for the men to look masculine and thus they often get passed over for sponsors. The Capitol is so petty.

Our mayor is trying his best to appease Dandie, by clapping as loudly as he can – not many others join in. Apparently the old man has been trying to bed her for years. The very thought makes me sick actually, although it is a little funny. Our four remaining Victors stand proud behind the two floundering idiots. This pleases me, as I know our District can rely on these people. “Our Victors are our hope” that’s what my grandma taught me.

Dandie is now blathering on about the same speech she gives every year – I’ve pretty well stopped listening, but Tommy is mouthing along, he’s so afraid of the games but he knows everything there is to know about them. ‘Know thy enemy’ sort of philosophy, well, whatever keeps him happy. He has reason to be afraid, he’s had to take a tesserae a few times; he wasn’t doing too well by the time he came to live and work with us.

I’m watching Tommy and see that he’s stopped mouthing along, she’s stopped talking, shit… That can only mean that the reaping is about to begin, my heart starts to race, 2 minutes and it’s over, then we can all go back to normal. Dandie waddles towards the bowl that holds the female names, glancing over at the girls I see a few of the girls I know. I really hope they’re not called; I couldn’t stand to lose another friend. I knew the boy who went last year – seeing your childhood friend get decapitated by some scrawny District 11 bitch he thought was his ally, was a horrible experience for me, the nightmares haven’t stopped.

Somewhere between my heart racing for fear of my friends’ safety and my remembering Henry’s demise, Tommy’s and my hands interlock – I’m sure we’re not the only people that do it but we’ve done it for the last 3 years as long as we’ve known one another, it’s just good to know that someone cares.

“Heather Markett” Dandie bellows. I don’t know her personally, but I know her name, she lives in the village closest to the farm – we must just run in different circles. It sucks to have someone from our area called again, but it’s better that it’s her than someone like Mary or Josephine. Heather looks composed as she walks to the stage – impressive; mostly when tributes from 10 get reaped they go kicking and screaming. Joie and Terri both cried, they also cried when they came home, best friends getting reaped and winning consecutive years, that was 10’s fairy tale story, and too recent for us to be allowed another victor, we all know it, and Heather must feel like she’s walking to the gallows.

Heather is fair, tall and lean. A fine District 10 specimen, we don’t go hungry out here, but the work is tough and if you come from our village – you work hard. She looks capable, maybe she’ll make it past the Cornucopia, hell, maybe, she will win. (The Capitol has been a bit hard to predict lately – they let that drug addict boy from 6 win last year.) I hope she will win; I really don’t want to watch her die.

Heather gets on stage shakes Mayor Grean’s hand and allows Dandie to give her a big hug and a kiss on each cheek. Gross.Dandie looks pleased as she in her best sing-song voice announces “Annnnnd…. Now for the boys!”

This is it, my heart starts to race…

Dandie fiddles with a bit of paper, drops it, and decides rather than bend down to pick it up that she’ll just draw another name. She reads aloud “Thomas Prescott”.

…That was THE WORST thing she could have said. I nearly vomit from shock. Tommy tightens his grip on my hand, I don’t think he fully realises that he’s been reaped. He turns to me with tears in his eyes and shaking uncontrollably – he realises alright. I realize that I’m crying too, they can’t take my Tommy from me.

“…Jax, I’ve got to go.” He says to me shakily. I pull him in to a tight hug, I’m not letting go. Let them reap someone else, pick up that bit of paper and read whoever was meant to be reaped, draw again, I don’t care, but they can’t have Tom.

The next thing I know the peacekeepers are there, they’re trying to pull us apart. In the hustle I start screaming something incoherent, and Thomas is pleading – I realise that one of them places a gun to my head. They finally manage to pull Thomas from me, as his fingers slip through mine I begin sobbing like a mewling babe. Then it happens I scream out those fatal words so many before me have said.

“I volunteer!”

I hear my mother scream from the sidelines, but I can’t focus on her, not now. I need to do this – Thomas is my life, I can’t let them take him.

Thomas looks at me with a pleading eyes “Jaxon, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!!” he pushes the peacekeepers away and runs back to me he’s gripping my shirt and crying as much as I am. "I can’t… don’t…” The rest of his words run in to sobs; I can tell the peacekeepers are getting impatient. Well, it’s now or never.

I grab Thomas’ face and with tears streaming down our faces, I kiss him, passionately. I know that all of Panem is watching, and there will be more than a few who disapprove (probably including my parents), but to hell with all of them. This is my boyfriend and if I’m going to my death, I need him to know that I love him and don’t care if all of District 10 or all of Panem knows it.

I walk determined to the stage, making no effort at all to hide my tears. Thomas is on the ground crying slamming his fist in to the ground, but by the time I reach the stage I can see that my father has him, holding him close and the look in my Dad’s eyes is nothing short of pride. A slow clap breaks out among my friends first I think Josephine starts it. But eventually all of District 10 is applauding me.

I raise a fist at the crowd to make a point that I intend on winning and they start to cheer. Dandie races forward faster than anyone her size should be able to move and wraps me up in a bear hug, she’s crying more than me. Grean pats me on the back and Heather steps forward to shake my hand without a prompt. I do feel bad for Heather, she made such an effort to stay strong and look like a contender but when potential sponsors look at the District 10 reaping they won’t remember the girl who walked proudly to the stage, they’ll remember the blubbering mess who decided that he should die instead of his boyfriend.If we get sponsors they’ll likely be for me, if we don’t get sponsors it’ll be my fault.

We turn to go towards the Justice Building until Blaykh, our remaining male Victor whispers to Dandie that she might want to ask my name. Dandie still a fountain of tears manages to gasp “I am so, so, eternally sorry darling. We got so caught up in the whirlwind of emotion but we simply must know your name.”

“It’s Jaxon – Jaxon Marz”


	4. Chapter 4 - Bethany I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow progress still, I've had this one written for a while - I'm not 100% happy with it, but I figure I can always edit.
> 
> *Language Warning*

Chapter 4 – Bethany I

  
District 6 – After The Reaping; The Goodbyes.

  
After the applause dies, Billy and I shake hands, at the demand of our escort. I would really rather not touch Billy, what sort of sick bastard volunteers for this?! All throughout school he was fascinated by the games, when the rest of us would be turning away screaming as people were getting raped and murdered while crying for help, Billy would be captivated. We all made fun of him for his bizarre sense of fun, I usually led the verbal berating, I wonder if he’s volunteered just to kill me?

  
Our escort Stefin is actually a decent looking guy, compared to what we see of the other escorts District 6 lucked out. His hazelnut skin deep brown eyes and flowing silver locks are the stuff teenage girls’ dreams are made of. He gets the crowd to cheer for us one more time, he is trying as hard as he can to make sure we look good for the cameras, good, I need him on my side.

  
We’re ushered off stage and Billy sends a smirk my way before they split us up. He’s going to try and kill me, I just know it. Probably at the cornucopia – when everyone’s watching, just to show how intimidating a whackjob from the machinery district can be, we’re already known as cannibals and drug addicts he wants to add games-cultists and freaks to the list.

  
The doors shut as District 6’s victors follow us inside. As for victors, Yvonne and Nylysa have been around for years. They cannot stand one another, from the moment Yvonne sent the healing cream to Nylysa and not her twin brother, Nylysa has wanted her dead, even though that cream saved her life in the arena – admittedly at the cost of her brother’s life, but it’s not as if both of them could’ve survived anyway.

  
I think I’ll take Yvonne as my mentor if I get a choice. IF she can stay of the morphling long enough she should make sure I don’t disgrace myself, Nylysa is a little too emotional for me.

  
Billy will of course want Klyff as his mentor, Klyff won last year’s games; Billy and his moron friends started up a cult following of the homecoming hero, they worship him. He was also saved by Yvonne, I stand a better chance with her than I do with Nylysa who encourages her tributes to be warriors, Nylysa’s tributes will either get slaughtered 10 seconds in or make top 4, she’s been really close many times. Yvonne on the other hand encourages her tributes to hide – it worked for her, it worked for Klyff, and it even worked for Nylysa. Stay alive as long as possible and take your chance when you can. That sounds more like me, that’s how I can win.

  
Billy looks ecstatic when I see him go in to his personal room - this guy is insane! He must be living the dream. I’m holding back tears on the other hand, but if I cry now, they won’t stop and I won’t be another weak girl who cries right up until the moment the District 2 male crushes my skull. I just won’t!

  
I am probably going to die, I know this in the back of my mind but I can’t accept it, not yet, I need to ride the shock, let nothing show on my face. I didn’t ask for this, and I really wish Billy wasn’t such a freak, I don’t want to be locked up with someone who volunteered to fight to the death, he’s always seemed weird to me and right now he frightens the shit out of me.

  
I’ve always hated Billy; he’s a nerdy little weasel with red hair, freckles and thick glasses. He really doesn’t stand a chance in the arena. But he’ll try and take me with him, to make up for over a decade of constant bullying, my friends and I tended to be rather harsh to the less socially adept people in our school.  
I’m lost in my own whirlwind of thoughts and hatred of ‘Gross Billy Gruen’ that I don’t notice a peacekeeper grabs me and pull me in to a room, this is where I’ll spend my last hour in District 6. Strangely though he stays, and takes off his helmet, Clayton, of course it’s Clayton. Pretty much the last person I want to see right now. (Ex-boyfriends are the worst.)

  
“Beth… I’m sorry.”

  
“Fuck your mother” I spit back at him.

  
“I know you can win, District 6 won last year, when you get back we can work things out.”

  
“You tossed me out in to the street when I was 6 ½ months pregnant, although you knew I had nowhere else to go. You still haven’t been to see your son. Drop dead.”

  
The hurt in Clayton’s eyes is evident, he may have been serious about wanting to fix things, but I really don’t care, my parents disowned me when they found out I was pregnant at 15 and then my ‘darling’ partner found someone that interested him more so kicked me out, I wish it was him in Billy’s place, I’d happily kill Clayton.

  
“When he grows up, I’m going to make him watch the footage of you dying. He’ll know that Mummy didn’t fight hard enough for him and that Daddy is the only one who ever loved him.” He whispers in my ear, guess he got over the idea of ‘fixing things’.

  
I lash out. _One, Two, Three, Four, Five_ hits land before another guard comes and pulls me off of him. So, I’m quick and I’m strong. Good to know, I’ve never been in a fight before but if I can beat down my sack of shit ex-boyfriend I may be able to rake out some pretty District 1 girl’s eye. The peacekeepers sulk away and Clayton blows me a kiss with a smirk. I flip him off.

  
That stain on the earth will never ever be allowed near my son, I’ve set measures in place to make sure that he’s looked after if I were to be reaped, which was the worst possible scenario. My nightmare has come true, I can feel myself start to tear up, and that’s not good, not yet. I’ll cry on the train, away from District 6 and hopefully away from Billy.

  
I’m left alone for about 15 minutes until finally the door opens and Mary, the old woman who runs the soup kitchen I’ve been living/working at comes in, and she’s holding my baby. Mary’s about 70 and ill, but she promises me that if I don’t come home she’ll raise my boy among her grandkids. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me.

  
I race forward and give her a bear hug as she cries, she tells me that she loves me and begs me to come home. This woman is more kind to me after knowing me only 6 months than my own parents, who I doubt will even bother to come and see me. Mary hands me her broach that was her wedding present from her long dead mother and tells me to wear it as my District trinket. She says she’ll be back for my baby at the end of the hour. I give her another hug, the dearest friend I’ve ever had.

  
Mary eventually leaves and I’m left with my son, I hold him for what I realise will most likely be the last time… and then I cry.


	5. Chapter 5 - Claire II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while, I've taken some time to overhaul my story a little, this chapter and the next were not originally planned, so I'm still unsure on this. 
> 
> But I finally have a working computer and no Uni work atm, so I'm going to try and push ahead with this story.

Chapter 5 – Claire II

District 7 – Train Station Platform

We’re driven slowly from the Justice Building to the train station platform, Jethro and I. Betsy and Kasey are to meet us there to officially send me away to the Capitol. Dad and the kids have decided not to go to the station; they’ve just spent the past hour with me. My father was a shell of his usual self, he hasn’t really recovered from losing Mum but he still puts on a strong face for the kids, today there was none of that, he was an absolute mess – Bryce, the eldest of my siblings, will have to help him put the pieces back together when I leave.

I do take comfort in knowing that, minutes after I step on to the train he will be given control of Marilyn’s logging company.

Jet has hardly said a word, he still can’t believe that his little sister was reaped – and that I volunteered to save her. We’ve barely been married 6 months and now he’s going to have to watch me compete in the Hunger Games, far from the perfect honeymoon. The sad part is I know he knows the truth, his mother’s backroom deals (or kitchen table deals, as it were). The look in his eyes just tells me that he’s worked it out, and it’s a shame that he may now see his mother in a negative light, but the silver lining is that he will make sure that my father is compensated. Blood money is all it is, but it’s better for him to have something.

The rain continues to fall mercilessly, mirroring my mood; the world is a bleak and miserable place. I hate everything as I step out from my car in to the pouring rain, and seeing most of the district gathered to wish me good luck and goodbye does not make it any better, they may pretend to be sad now, but deep down they’re just thankful it wasn’t their children.

Walking through the crowd towards the train, I’m trying my best to be aware of the cameras, making sure I continue to look strong; this is something they actually teach us in school, for inevitably 2 of us will have to face this every year. I pass my friends and school mates on the way, Tamara had obviously been crying, Hilda and Mirelle just gave me sad smiles and Ryba just a stoic look, I don’t know if any of it helps. Blight, a well-known and respected victor from our district, manages to push through the crowd to me, gives me a soft smile through his rain soaked beard, he takes my free hand (I’m still refusing to let go of Jethro) and leads me to where the group that will be travelling to the Capitol has congregated.

Johanna Mason, our unofficial leader, and one of my least favourite people ever, grumbles something about finally being able to leave, and leads the group of us towards the train; the District 7 Victors form a protective barrier around me and the male tribute as we push through the crowd towards our destination. The Capitol media are doing their best to get shots of us, the victors ignore their presence and shield us as much as possible; this must be an old precaution in-case any of the tributes were crying. I’m not thankfully, Jet isn’t either – but he quite obviously looks defeated. The male tribute; tall and muscular, with a shaved-head also holds a stoic facial expression.

It’s the first time I get to see Faine up close, the male tribute is 2 years younger than I but already head and shoulders taller than me. Broad shoulders and large arms, he’s definitely a lumberjack, I need to make an ally out of him or I may find myself with an axe crushing my skull – because I’m sure that he wouldn’t miss.

Getting closer to the train, an old man tries to break the cocoon of mentors to get closer to us. “Get off, you old fool.” Chuck, another victor of ours, moans as he pushes the old man to the ground.

Faine pushes Chuck in turn yelling “Move” as he pushes through the mentors and media to help the old man up. “It’s okay Grandpa, you’re going to be alright” Faine says as he holds his Grandpa close. The media goes wild, with every camera now focused on the young man and his Grandpa.

As much as I would love to stay behind the victors all the way to the train, that would be really bad publicity. I can’t let Faine have all of the attention, so I too break free of the barrier, despite the victors protests, Johanna mutters something about ‘Stupid kids, begging for a canon…’ as we push past her. Jet instantly follows my lead, we begin waving at the cameras and hugging people I barely know, putting on my best fake smile – I am a volunteer after all. Now all eyes are on me, Faine either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, he’s just trying to help his old grandfather to his feet.

Betsy gives a sly smile when I reach her, the closest thing I’ve ever gotten to any sign of approval from her, but she’s played the Capitols games all her life, so if she approves of how I’m playing then I’ll take that as a good sign. She kisses me on the cheek and clasps my shoulders to wish me luck, while her face gives away no sign of actually caring. I am repulsed by my mother-in-law touching my so affectionately, but the cameras don’t need to know that.

Fake smile at Betsy, then the camera, and even at Johanna who shakes her head at me as she and the other victors board the train, Chuck and Faine bringing up the rear, Faine’s grandfather a mess at the edge of the platform, still holding on to Faine, even as he’s on the train. Blight has assigned himself to me and stays behind with me, awkwardly making sure I don’t try and run.

I finally let go of Jethro’s hand to hug his little sister with both arms; Kasey is still obviously shook up about having her name called, and when I hug her she begins to cry. I hold her for a while before Blight taps me on the shoulder to signal that the time has come to board the train. I’m nearly in tears as I pry her off me, I can’t believe that a society would sentence such a sweet child to death, it’s even harder to believe that I’ve volunteered for it – still it’s the right thing to do, as much as the selfish side screamed at me to stay put, I had to volunteer to save her, I HAD to.

I’m about to step on to the train, but there’s one more goodbye left, I turn to Jet and he’s holding back tears. I can’t do a long soppy goodbye here or I’ll cry in full view of the cameras and my competitors, which would be disastrous for my game-plan, but I can’t leave without saying goodbye, that would hurt more. So with every ounce of composure I can muster I kiss him lightly on the lips, look him in the eyes and promise “I’ll see you soon.”

I step on to the train with a heavy heart and a clean conscience, I know my family will be alright and I know Jet will find happiness again. I will miss this place so very much but I’m smart, quick, and strong and have something to fight for, I WILL come back.

Evey, an 80-something year old victor (our first) manages to finally convince Faine’s grandfather to release him, and the giant boy joins me on the ledge of the train car they want us to stand on to wave goodbye. There’s no sign of tears there, which is good for us both – District 7 kids don’t cry. Evey is helped on to the platform by Chuck and Blight, the victors stand behind us as a show of solidarity, and without any real warning the train pulls out of the station. I try my best to look as proud as I can but waving goodbye to Jet really hurt me.

It’s less than a minute until the District 7 station has faded in to the distance. Blights voice wakes me from my day-dreaming, “Could you kids come in please, we’ve got to start planning on how to get you home.”

I can’t help but notice he left out the part that only one of us would be coming home.


	6. Chapter 6 - Garrett I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still slow progress, but I am determined to press on.

Chapter 6 – Garrett I

Capitol Bound Train – Meeting the Mentors

_‘Maintain composure, look as clam as possible. Being reaped is not a death sentence, you are going to come home; I have no doubt of that. This is what we’ve been preparing for. I love you, good luck.’_

My father’s words run through my head for what has to be at least the 70th time. I still can’t process it, there were no tears or anything after my name was called, just numbness, I knew they were going to rig the reaping.

The female tribute, Christi is seated next to me, still sobbing uncontrollably, I don’t know her well, but she knows that I’m a prefect at school, so she keeps looking to me for help. I can’t help her, for me to live I need to give her up as dead now.

The door to our compartment opens, and our escort Cyrill leads our mentors in, the group do not look at all impressive, this is not a dream start to the games. Cyrill is a tall gentlemen, reaching a mature age these days, dressed in a neon pink suit, adorned with flowers. He is sporting a platinum blond pompadour to top it off this year, but that suit is just so ridiculously pink, it’s blinding, I wonder if everyone in the Capitol dresses as elaborately as Cyrill? I usually love our district colour, but today the sight of pink makes me miserable, and it’s everywhere along with the number ‘8’ on everything, it’s like the capitol is trying to inspire a sense of district pride or something, it’s not working, right now I’m wishing I was from a career district, so I’d have a volunteer to take my place, 8 months of swinging a makeshift sword in a back alley is nothing compared to the training they must go through.

Cyrill introduces us to our victors, all of whom are too stand-off-ish and formal for my liking. Woof, our oldest living victor, still a large muscular man although his hair has gone white and he needs glasses to see, shakes my hand firmly, and then Christi’s just as firmly, I see her give a wince when she takes her hand back. Owin is a sliver of a man, incredibly thin with raggy unkempt hair but a well maintained moustache, I never see him in public, apparently he spends a large amount of time in the Capitol, he gives a quick handshake and a dismissive nod. Cecilia, our most recent victor, even though that was almost 20 years ago now embraces Christi and myself in turn, a short hug, she obviously doesn’t want to get attached.

Cyrill starts on about how dull the districts are and that he simply must catch some rest, lest he look too tired for the Capitol. He leaves the five of us standing awkwardly with one another.

Christi goes to ask a question but begins to sob again, the remaining four of us look to one another for guidance on how to deal with it.

“Come on girl, no more tears, it’s unbecoming of a District 8 tribute.” it’s Owin that does a poor job of trying to comfort the 12 year old. It’s true, the sobbing is almost becoming unbearable, bringing the whole cabin’s mood down if that were even possible. But his sharp words just make her cry harder.

“Come on arsehole, you cried, Cecilia cried, fuck, I cried! The girl is living her worst nightmare here, don’t be a prick.” Woof sticks up for her, he goes to keep speaking but before he can she cuts him off…

“Please don’t make me go, please, please I’ll do anything, I don’t want to die…”

Woof puts his hand on Christi’s shoulder, as he kneels down to her level, the same way a father would, comforting a child, in the most encouraging voice he can muster asks, “Hey sweetheart, do you want to come with me and get some ice cream.” Christi seems hesitant but eventually nods and the two of them leave for the next cabin, with Owin trailing behind complaining that Woof should be treating his tribute like a warrior, not a helpless child.

That leaves Cecilia and myself, which makes sense. I go to talk to her about the obviousness of the situation, but she must read my mind, and she holds a finger up to her mouth in a silent plea for silence, I obey, far be it from me to question someone so high up in the order.

“I’m sorry about that” she motions towards the food cart. “One of us has to work with Woof, these days, his memory isn’t what it used to be. So the girl gets two mentors and you’re stuck with me.” She gives a little smile, I know that she knows how good she is, however she tries to downplay it.

“I look forward to working with you.” I tell her, there must be someone listening somewhere for Cecilia to be acting like this, best to play it safe.

“Me too Garrett, now if you’d come and sit, the recap will be on shortly, we can get a look at your fellow competitors.” She leaves the table where we have been standing next to but makes a point of leaving her napkin next to her empty glass, I snatch it up, it’s the little clues from my mentor that are going to help me win these games.

Cecilia leaves me to sit by myself as she fetches Woof, Christi and Owin from the other cart. I take the opportunity to check the napkin for a message.

_**“Remember: we have NEVER met.”** _

I tuck the napkin in my pocket – I must remember to dispose of it later. She must be deep undercover, does the Capitol really have NO idea that their beloved Victor Cecilia, the sweet girl from a pleasant, quiet District, is the head of the resistance trying to destroy them?


End file.
